Storm Over Rhanna Read online

  ‘Todd has a car,’ Fergus broke in brusquely. ‘I’ll go and ask him to fetch it round – Niall could be anywhere on Rhanna and will be held up with the snow.’

  ‘Ach, the damty thing will never start,’ Molly spoke with assurance. ‘Todd last used it to take a tourist party over to Croy and that was away back in July. I doubt he has the battery out now for he’s aye tinkering around wi’ the blessed engine. He has a good horse and cart though,’ she added, eyeing the doctor with some defiance. ‘In the old days we would put a pregnant lass into a cart and take her over the roughest roads. It was a good way to get things moving and it was said that a lad born after a good jolting at a horse’s backside took to the crofting life no bother.’

  ‘Literally born to it,’ said Phebie, hiding a wicked grin into her hanky.

  Mark James, coming back from the kitchen where he had left Tina sipping tea, assessed the situation in one glance. ‘I’ll get along up to the Manse and bring my old Thunder. She’ll grumble a bit, but then so does anything as old as she is.’

  ‘Thunder? That isn’t a horse – is it?’ Megan sounded suspicious.

  ‘Bless you no, lass,’ laughed Molly as Mark James strode away. ‘Thunder is the name o’ the minister’s old motor car. She makes a noise like the clapping o’ the heavens when she is starting up and the name just suits her fine.’

  The minister had paused at the door to murmur something into Kate’s ear and, brisk and cool-headed in times of emergency, she led Isabel and Molly away to the nether regions of the hall. They were soon back, between them carrying a box of old curtains which in no time at all had been whipped round Shona to form a makeshift screen.

  ‘Och, Kate, what would I do without you?’ she sighed gratefully. ‘You’re aye on the spot when you’re needed and seem to know just what to do.’

  ‘Ach, think nothing o’ it. I did the same for auld Biddy and Todd thon time they were both laid up in my house and neither wanting to bare their bums to the other – look you, laddie,’ she rounded on Fergus, ‘will you get out the road this minute and stop gawping at the lass as if she was maybe going to drop her bairn on top o’ your toes?’

  Fergus had been anxiously hovering at his daughter’s side, hindering more than helping as the womenfolk bustled about. At Kate’s blunt words he glowered darkly and, taking his pipe from his pocket, jammed it between his teeth, making no attempt to light it.

  ‘Father,’ Shona spoke warningly, ‘will you stop looking like that? I’ve had babies before. Do something useful – like taking Ellie for a walk round the hall. Santa ought to be back soon so let her see the tree while she’s waiting.’

  ‘Eve’s taken charge o’ her.’ He bit into his pipe, his restless gaze looking beyond the brightly lit hall to the Sound of Rhanna lying black-bellied under distant grey clouds. The snow had stopped momentarily, as if held suspended by some giant breath, and in the lull darkness seemed to swoop down to embrace the island. The wind resumed its attack, keened in over the sea, whipped froth from waves that hurled themselves viciously against the slimy finger of Port Rum Point. Beyond the pocked face of that grim promontory the Sgor Creags rose up, like grey gloomy old men eternally meditating the wild Atlantic.

  Against that backdrop of untamed grandeur the massive Venus looked small and insignificant. The men swarmed round him, coaxing him to safer ground. But he had run himself into a state of exhaustion and offered no resistance when a rope was slotted through his nose ring and he was led gingerly over the slippery rocks. As docile as any gentle-eyed cow he ambled amiably along the village street, every now and then emitting a soft little grunt to indicate his total subjugation to the human animal.

  ‘I see he’s been rescued,’ Canty Tam’s disappointed breathy voice was warm in Fergus’s ear. ‘I was just after thinkin’ the Uisge Hags would get him too. A Rhanna bull is no’ near as good as a Rhanna man but he would have been better than nothing and would have kept them off us for a while.’

  The scene outside was wiped out as great windblown gusts of fresh snow hurtled over the landscape, blattering against the window panes to melt and slither down. ‘Ach, your head’s too full o’ nonsense, man,’ growled Fergus, ‘go and find something useful to do for a change. You never seem to do anything else but slink about looking for trouble.’

  Canty Tam was not offended. He knew about Green Usage Flags better than any other in these parts. They took boats and men and did terrible things to them way down there in the depths of the ocean. Folk hereabouts blamed storm and tide for such disasters but he knew the real and awful truth, and giving Fergus a pitying glance he shuffled off to find more amenable ears.

  Fergus shivered, hating the sight of the white world, fighting to keep back memories of long ago when Helen, his first wife, had died on a blizzard-racked morning giving birth to Shona . . .

  ‘Father,’ Shona grabbed his hand and held it tight. ‘I know fine you’re worried about me, that you hate it every time a McKenzie woman has a baby on the island. But inside myself I wanted it this way – in fact you might almost say I willed it to happen. I won’t have any more babies and my dearest wish is to have this one on Rhanna.’

  He looked down on her earnest face and his black eyes grew tender. ‘Ay, and you aye did get your own way. Niall’s right when he calls you a red-haired witch. You go around casting your spells on people and events and somehow manage to turn them in your favour. It wouldny surprise me in the least if poor old Venus was part o’ your plan. He seems to have done you a favour after all, even if he himself comes off worst in the end. Croynachan is talking of sending him back to the Department. If no’ we might have Rhanna women dropping bairns out of trees and God knows where else.’

  The men were drifting back into the hall to be fortified with tea from the ever-brewing urn. There was a general bustle while everyone belatedly resumed their positions at the various stalls and the children squabbled to gain the best places in the queue for ‘Santa’s Maritime Cave’. This was an innovation dreamed up by Captain Mac, who, with his flowing white beard and jolly bulbous nose, made a perfect if slightly inebriated Father Christmas.

  Somewhat out of breath from his efforts to help with Venus, he settled himself graciously into the depths of an enormous clam shell which had been made from the remains of an ancient rowing boat, now painted white and liberally embellished with streamers of dried seaweed. Mermaids and dolphins cavorted on the walls of the cave which had been fashioned after the style of a tinker’s tent and covered over with a fish-smelling, moth-eaten tarpaulin. Hidden in the corner, a red light glowed mysteriously, bathing Captain Mac in an enigmatic glow that further enhanced the colour of his Santa suit and turned his nose into a bright red beacon.

  Hurriedly he swigged from the bottle that was hidden in his roomy pocket, smoothed down his luxuriant whiskers, and in a deep, resonant boom called, ‘Enter the cave!’ for the benefit of the first little visitor who was peeping round the door with huge, wondering, awe-filled eyes.

  ‘The minister’s coming back!’

  Wullie McKinnon, at his mother’s insistence, had been keeping watch at the door. Peering through the snow-spiked darkness he wished he had made himself scarce when the going was good. Still, it was for Shona, and he had always had a soft spot for the only daughter of McKenzie o’ the Glen.

  Wiping snowflakes from his lashes and an errant drip from his nose, he watched the lights of the minister’s motor car wavering down the brae from the Manse. It was very quiet out here, with the snow muffling the sound of the sea and no noise of anything else to break the silence. Rasping his sleeve over his nose he put his face in at the door and yelled, ‘Come on, lads, the minister’s motor’s no’ working. He’s freewheeling down the brae. Bring Angus, we’ll need him to look at the engine.’

  An unwilling Angus was ousted away from the tombola stall which he had haunted in the hope of winning a bottle of malt whisky.

  ‘I’ll open the wee envelope for you, son,’ offered Tam affably, ‘if you hav
e the winning number I’ll be sure to tell you, you can trust me.’

  ‘Ay, to keep it for yourself,’ grumbled Angus, unwillingly handing over his newly acquired ticket to his father before following his brother and a few other stalwarts out to where Thunder had just slithered to a halt.

  The vehicle was ancient, rusty and unreliable, possibly owing to the fact that its owner only ever used it when the breezes of summer had given way to the gales of winter. At the men’s approach, Mutt’s big, shaggy, smiling face looked out of a window.

  Angus guffawed with laughter. ‘Look, lads, I doubt Mr James has allowed his dog to take over the driving. ’Tis no wonder the damty motor wouldny go right.’

  Mark James smiled. ‘No, Angus, I drive, Mutt only does the steering – and then only under strict supervision.’

  The men roared with appreciative mirth, then as one swarmed round the vehicle to instruct, encourage and torment Angus who had lifted the creaking bonnet to peer knowingly at the engine in the uncertain light of a storm lantern held aloft by Mark James.

  Chapter Four

  ‘For heaven’s sake, doesn’t anything on this island work?’

  The words of frustration were torn from Megan who was waiting with Fergus at the door, helplessly watching the activity round the minister’s motor car, shivering in the bite of the wind tearing through her rather flimsy clothing. ‘And just listen to them arguing and laughing as if it was some sort of picnic. Don’t they ever take anything seriously?’

  Fergus sucked on his pipe, his own impatience making him inwardly curse the good-natured banter of the men, yet his inbuilt loyalty to his kinsmen forbidding him to utter one word of agreement to a stranger. For that was how he thought of Megan and if he had felt like talking at all he would have told her that if she wanted to make any sort of agreeable life for herself on the island she would have to stop criticizing and learn to take the islanders as she found them. Too many strangers came to these parts and tried to impose their opinions on the natural inhabitants, and when they were ignored they were wont to wonder why and imagine themselves hard done by.

  He, more than anyone, had found it difficult to get to know the new doctor, let alone like her, and he knew she felt exactly the same way about him.

  ‘You’ll no’ burrow your way into that black-hearted McKenzie,’ Behag had warned sourly, ‘he’s as dour and thrawn as Malcolm his father before him, ay, and just as unlikeable. I should know too, I’ve kent him all my days yet never kent the black-eyed cratur’ at all, if you get my meaning, Doctor.’

  Fergus wished with all his heart that Lachlan was still the island doctor, that it was he instead of this young female standing beside him now, the high heels of her fashionable shoes beating an annoying tattoo on the steps as she paced back and forwards. Taking the pipe from his mouth, he was about to snarl at her to be still when Kate came hurrying out, her face full of concern when she addressed Megan, ‘I’m thinkin’ we had better try and get the lass along to my house. Her pains are getting worse by the minute. I’ve had many a bairn in my own bed in my day and it’s just a step or two along the road. She could be quick wi’ this one and if that Tam gets wind o’ it he’ll be raffling it along wi’ the Christmas cake, for he’s that daft wi’ the drink he couldny tell the difference.’

  If the situation had been less serious Megan would have seen the funny side, as it was she did laugh outright, but only with sheer relief for at that moment a great cheer from the men coincided with the glad sound of an engine bursting into life.

  In minutes Shona was being helped outside and into the vehicle. Squeezed in beside her were the doctor and Fergus with Ellie on his knee, in the front the minister sat behind the wheel, Phebie was in the passenger seat with Mutt cooried beside her, watched jealously by Sporran who it had been decided should remain behind with Kate. The little spaniel was not in the least pleased with the arrangement and glowered long and hard at the usurper as if to say, ‘So this is my thanks for all my efforts this afternoon, this big mutt gets all the attention while I have to stay behind and walk.’

  ‘Och, let him in,’ decided Shona, ‘he was a dear brave wee soul today and if it hadn’t been for him we could all have been trampled to death.’

  So a triumphant Sporran was hoisted into the back, the grin on his face widening when, at the last moment, an uninvited Elspeth squashed herself in beside an audibly protesting Mutt.

  ‘Since you are going my way, Minister,’ said Elspeth by way of explanation, removing Mutt’s ear from her mouth and settling her sparse frame into the seat with determination. ‘Besides, I’m thinkin’ I’d like to be there when the doctor hears his son is about to bring a new McLachlan into the world.’

  Two sets of eyes sparked with annoyance at her thoughtless remarks, Megan’s because Elspeth still insisted on calling Lachlan ‘the doctor’ and Shona’s because Elspeth always managed to rile her with insinuations that Niall had done himself no favours in marrying a McKenzie, and that any achievements within the family must be placed very firmly at his door. She was about to warm the old woman’s ears with a few choice remarks of her own when a glance at her father’s face stilled her tongue. He looked as if he would like to kill the ‘auld yowe’ as he called her, and Shona put a warning finger to her lips and snuggled against him to bury her face into the comforting warmth of his neck.

  Thunder jolted, jumped forward, settled down as Mark James held the gear in place. Another cheer sounded from outside, the men’s faces slipped away like moons in the night.

  ‘Good luck, Shona lass!’ Tam called cheerfully. ‘We’ll wet the bairn’s head the minute we hear it’s arrived.’

  ‘Hmph,’ snorted Elspeth, ‘the rogue has already drowned it forbye any sorrows he might have floatin’ about in that empty head o’ his. Him and his sons are good for nothing but drinking and hiding when there’s work to be done.’

  ‘Angus got this temperamental machine of mine to start,’ the minister pointed out grimly as he strained to see through the small semi-circle made by the sluggish wiper. ‘He and the others might appear to make light of things but somehow, in the end, they get them moving and I for one thank God for their like.’

  Elspeth merely grunted while Megan, remembering her own hasty words of condemnation, blushed red in the darkness. Mark’s eyes caught hers in the mirror and she lowered her head, utterly dismayed by the turn of events. If only her own car hadn’t broken down none of this would have happened. She wouldn’t be here now, in Mark’s rattling old motor, with the seat springs hurting her thighs and draughts whistling round her neck. The scuffed leather upholstery was permeated with the rather pleasing scent of his pipe smoke. It made her very aware of him, the great strength of his presence, the little homely and humorous habits that had made him stick a notice on the windscreen, proclaiming, ‘This vehicle sometimes runs on petrol but mostly on luck and the occasional prayer.’

  She studied the powerful shoulders hunched over the wheel, the shape of his dark head – the top of it just missing the roof by inches. A smile touched her lips. He was so different from Steven in every way – if only, if only . . .

  A silence descended over everyone. Not even Phebie seemed able to offer any of her usual cheerful chatter. Little Ellie was cooried into Fergus, sleepily sucking her thumb, the tiny cloth rabbit from Santa’s sack held tight to her breast.

  Shona wanted to hold her small daughter, to stroke her hair and tell her that everything was alright, but the vehicle’s interior was so claustrophobic and cramped that in just a few minutes her stomach seemed to have attained enormous proportions. She felt as if she was swelling up, bursting out with pain, drowning in rivers of perspiration that poured down her face. And then came the nausea, thrusting upwards in waves that made her swallow and gasp out, ‘Where are we now, Father?’

  Fergus cleared a circle of steam from the window and peered out. The snow whirled, driven by a moaning wind that shrieked through Downie’s Pass, obliterating familiar landmarks, all but blotting
out the lights of Laigmhor wavering faintly up ahead. Thunder’s single wiper had been getting slower and slower as gradually it clogged up, now the little motor whirred uselessly, allowing the blade finally to become pinned against the bonnet.

  ‘Damn!’ The minister’s curse came from under his breath yet even so Elspeth glared at him with downright disapproval. He caught the look and grinned faintly. The old lady could always be trusted to rise to the bait, no matter how grim the circumstances.

  ‘We’re at Laigmhor,’ Fergus rapped out the words just as the machine slithered to a groaning halt. ‘We’d better get Shona home.’

  ‘Home.’ The word fell sweetly on Shona’s ears. Her father would always think of Laigmhor as her home and dearly though she loved Mo Dhachaidh she knew that the big old farmhouse would never completely relinquish its hold on her . . . But if she didn’t go back to her own house that night, what about Niall waiting there, wondering what had happened to her . . .? Quickly she voiced her thoughts. The minister smiled at her reassuringly. ‘I phoned from the Manse when I was up there getting Thunder,’ he glanced briefly at Megan, ‘I also took the liberty of phoning Babbie to tell her to stand by at Mo Dhachaidh.’

  ‘You thought of everything,’ Megan said dryly, angry because in all the trauma she hadn’t thought of either Niall or Babbie.

  ‘Not everything,’ his tone was equally dry. ‘I didn’t know we wouldn’t get as far as Mo Dhachaidh so, as there’s no phone at Laigmhor, I’ll get along there and let them know what’s happening.’